Chewin' the Bantha Fat -
by sandywritesthings
Summary: If Brexit suddenly got Earth asking questions about institutions we take for granted, the Separatist movement must have fuelled some passionate debate across the galaxy. So, while Count Dooku's political terrorist group was nothing more than a simple leaflet campaign, what were the little people chatting about over lunch?


"Sorry, but you're wrong."

Festus' rubbery arm reached across the table. More rock salt for his already briny meat plate.

"How can you even say that?" Max had to hold himself from banging his fork on the table. "The Republic is designed for everyone! I can't believe you'd side with a warmonger like Dooku on this..."

Festus grabbed the squid-like creature from his plate in the multiple hooks of his clawed hand and, ignoring the murmured flubbery protestations of the Mon Calamari student beside him, pressed it between the vertical folds of his leathery mouth.

"Warmonger? Dooku?" he replied. "Look, I don't agree with all of the Separatists' methods but if any of them's looking to bring peace it's Dooku. Unfortunately when you're trying to establish peace with a whole band of societies you're going to have to take some rough with the smooth…"

"Oh, you mean like the Neimoidian gangsters who held my system hostage?"

"...perhaps," Festus began, taking little care to avoid spraying flecks of part digested food as he spoke, "but also with Outer Rim systems like Eriadu, Onderon and Ryx finally having some security after being let down by the Republic on so many occasions. They say the Republic's had no war for a thousand years - I guess it would be inconvenient to blemish that record by having to acknowledge and respond to raids in the Outer Rim…"

"Raids started by the Separatists!" Max put down the piece of food that had been half way to his mouth. "And the Republic can't respond to every single little dispute as if it's a Galactic emergency - that's what local militia and security forces are for. That's the whole point of the Republic - giving local systems their own autonomy. The Republic doesn't have an army of its own."

"See, that's another thing." Wailing in an unintelligible bluster about the elbow print in his mashed ploughtato, Festus' bug-eyed neighbour finally picked up his tray and left. "The Republic likes to claim it's the alliance of peace. That anyone can live their life their way. But, soon enough, if there's a border dispute on Antion or a ruckus in Bos Pity, no sooner has someone made a complaint than two of the Republic's own personal heavies have been dispatched to 'solve the problem'. And if one of the belligerents is not already a member of the Republic you can be sure that meeting will end, if not in a severed limb and a smoking lightsaber, then a quiet inclined word of "You know the benefits to member states is quite considerable." But more and more systems are refusing to join. They won't stand for it. And the Jedi can't believe anyone would argue with them. So they get shot at. And sometimes they die. And there are more and more of them - I'm telling you, the Jedi can't cope with the workload. There's change on the horizon. You mark my words."

"What? You think the Jedi are going to all up and just… quit being Jedi?"

"No, but that's a good question - what if they all did? There's not enough 'peacemakers' to go around as it is… I'm telling you, something's gonna change. Give it four, five years maybe, the Republic's gonna start beefing up it's muscle. Something's in the atmosphere, I can smell it."

"You can always smell something in the atmosphere," Max shook his head, stuffing the now cold pieces of meat into his mouth. "Just a shame it's never your own bantha pudu."

Festus nearly choked on his laughter.

"I get it, I know I'm always the one with the chromium foil hat," Festus wiped his flapping maw with his overalls' sleeve. "But I've gotta say, I can't help but feel dodgy about where the Republic's headed. No wonder so many systems are trying to leave. We need people like Dooku. He's here to shake the system up."

"Look, Festus, you know I love you," Max began, picking up the cup of blue juice to the right of his tray. "But there's so much that the Republic offers that Dooku can make no assurances on. Free speech. Welfare. Healthcare. Sentient rights - for all beings, not just humans."

"Hnh," Festus looked around him. "That might be what's written down - but have you seen the way people like me are treated in the street?"

Max's response caught in his throat for a bit. He looked about the lunch hall. All across the forty to fifty tables, each placed end to end in multiple rows, there were species of all sorts from across the Galaxy who had come to study at Raveena University on Coruscant - the squid-eyed Mon Calamari, green-skinned Rodians and even a glowering humanoid Chiss, all eating and chatting together. But even in the mix of people scoffing and laughing, Max couldn't help but flit his eyes to one table in the corner set slightly apart from the others populated entirely by humans.

"Look, there are always going to be bad eggs anywhere you go," he said eventually. "But the concept of democracy? You won't get that under the Count of Serenno now, will you?"

Festus shook his head.

"At least Dooku's council are actually made up of some of the people they actually represent. Chancellor Palpatine might have Mas Amedda at his side but you look at the people who've really held power, even in the last 50 years or so. All human. And Amedda's stentorian Coruscanti tones make him a token effort at best. Dooku's title might be hereditary but ask yourself which of the two is actually giving a voice to the races they claim to represent.."

"Hold on," Max's eyeline raised above the head of his friend. "What's all this?"

Across the canteen, near an entry way, a small fracas appeared to be taking place.

"Oh no," said Festus. "Not this guy again,"

One of the human students had risen from the nearby table and appeared to be in heated discussion with a man in robes who had been escorted into the room. The dignitary's scaly head tails bobbed in gentle nods, despite the verbal barrage being hurled at him.

"Another one of your lot?"

"My lot? That's Calo Nest from the AFC." Festus ducked his head "I've seen that guy on campus but no way am I part of his society if that's what you mean.."

"Nest? Not that weird guy you gave your details to at the Freshmen's Fayre?"

"Man, I gave my details to everyone that day - you're supposed to. But no way did I sign up to the Anti-Force Collective. Those guys are troublemakers."

"I mean, he's just shouting. How's he different from any of the other loonies you hang out with?."

"The activists I sometimes I collaborate with," Festus corrected. "Might well be known for their passion. But antagonising a guy with a lightsaber for no reason? Not our idea of fun."

Max craned his neck. Across the seated heads between him and the dignitary, he could just make out the glimmer of a small silvery tube poking out from the dignitary's robe.

"That's a Jedi?" Max half whispered the question. "I thought he was just dressed down."

"Yeah, Saesee Tiin, I think. Council member. I hear they'll sometimes come give talks to the Interstellar Politics students. Get a tour of the campus while they're here. Selective route of course. Still can't stop them bumping into the odd nutter though, I guess."

Max watched as the black tunic clad student's hand movements became more animated. The blue-capped Campus Security guards kept attempting to step forward but the Jedi Master batted their efforts calmly away, all the while maintaining eye contact with the young man. At one point, it looked like the student was going to get violent, a frustrated fist in the air, though it lowered just as soon as it had been raised. All the while, the Jedi Master continued nodding.

"He's got the patience of a Sarlacc, that guy."

"The Jedi? Just you wait."

Max returned his gaze to Festus.

"What? You think he's gonna start waving a lightsaber around in a civilian institution?"

"Like I say, just wait."

The student's other arm had come into play now. Whatever grievance it was that he was expressing, it had whipped him into a frenzy. And then - as the Jedi began to speak, making nothing more passionate than an illustrative hand gesture - the student's anger seemed to subside. The student's shoulders dropped and his head hung for a moment or two. Before long, the pair were shaking hands. The tension in the room shifted, and the students who couldn't draw their eyes away only moments before returned to their meals. Soon enough, the black-tunic clad student was sat back at his own table and eating.

Festus leaned his face close to Max's over the table.

"See?"

If Festus had eyebrows, one of them would have been arched higher than an Acklay's ankle.

"See what?" Max pulled hard at the plastophane lid of the jelly cup on his tray. "A student had a go at a Jedi and then they managed to resolved it peacefully. That's what Jedi do - they keep the peace."

"Oh yeah?" asked Festus. "And what about Free Speech?"

Max swallowed a big spoon of his jelly. It was dark red, smelled deeply of tula berries and, in the noise of the lunch hall, literally vibrant. He shrugged.

"Looks like the guy was speaking pretty freely to me,"

"You're serious?" Festus looked about to his left and right. A small touch of eye contact made sure the three-eyed Gran beside him kept his eyes on his own tray. "You didn't see the hand wavy thing?"

"What hand wavy thing?"

"The Jedi hand wavy thing," Festus drew the gesture in the air with his own hand. "That's what they do. If a Jedi wants something from someone and the person won't change their mind, the Jedi will quite happily change it for them."

Max's eyes rolled.

"I think you're being a little paranoid. All I saw was two guys having an argument - one of whom just so happens to be a Jedi. After a while, that argument stopped. What's so weird about that?"

Festus' sigh was wet and frustrated as he rested his bulbous head on a lizardy palm.

"You and I disagree all the time," Max continued. "Doesn't stop us being friends, does it?"

"You've missed the point again as always." All eight of Festus' beady black eyes looked straight into Max's two. "I've seen Calo Nest at nearly every rally, gathering, hustings, protest that the student Union's endorsed - and heard about his behaviour at plenty that they haven't. I'll be blunt - he's a troublemaker - one who hates the Jedi and their privileged position of power they seem to have in the Republic. And I've never seen him back down from an argument. What makes you think he would just calmly agree to disagree in the face of his sworn enemy?"

Max scooped the last few spoonfuls of jelly into his mouth and shook his head in nonchalance.

"Maybe he's just all talk?"

"Now who's talking bantha pudu!" Festus leaned back in his seat in exasperation. "I'm telling you, that was a Jedi mind trick. Come the end of that argument, he had about as much control over his own actions as I do over your willingness to admit that Bith music is lame."

Max paused for a moment, and touched his hand to the chest graphic on his bodyshirt.

"Bith music isn't lame."

Festus eyeline dropped to the line-drawn melon headed ensemble on Max's shirt.

"Seriously man? It's not coming back." Festus shook his head as he lifted up his own jelly cup to the light. "Bith music is dead and that guy got Jedi mind tricked."

Max paused for a moment. He looked again in the direction of the entry way.

"He seemed pretty passionate. I thought Jedi mind tricks only worked on the weak-willed?"

"Weak-minded," Festus corrected. "Someone can have a pretty iron will about something and still be weak-minded. It's all about how open to persuasion you are. Of course, every species is different, but the way I understand it, Jedi mind tricks affect your brain in the same way emotional news stories do. Makes you a lot more likely to agree with the next thing that anyone says. If you've got a critical mind that thinks twice about everything it's told, you're less susceptible. A guy like Calo? It's no surprise to me how he just shut up and sat down. That guy will believe anything his pals share with him on the Holonet."

"Really?"

"Trust me," Festus munched. "I read it on the Holonet."

Max stared across the room. The once fiery passionate human was now nodding politely as he chatted with the diners near him, even offering his extra portions to the Sullustan behind him. In fact, before long, Max realised he was starting to collect their empty trays, too.

"Ok," Max began, stacking Festus' tray under his own as his friend finished his own jelly pot. "If that's true how can we be sure we're doing anything of our own volition? How can I be sure that you're not secretly a Jedi who's manipulated me into liking Bith music just so he can mock me."

Festus laughed as he shrugged.

"That's what I'm saying man - in the Republic, which is so reliant on the Jedi as the ultimate arbiters of what is good and right, there is no way that any of us can be sure at any point that we really think the way we do. Met a Jedi? You're a candidate. I'm not saying I'm going to run off and join the Confederacy at the drop of a hat, but I can definitely see why people want to break away from the Republic and live in a society much less reliant on the Jedi.

"Jedi don't decide right and wrong. We have courts, you know."

"Pff, courts," Festus continued. "I'm telling you, in this universe that's filled with The Force and people who know how to use it - guys like you and me, we don't stand a chance. We're all being made to think a certain way."

"Well clearly not," Max replied. "Otherwise, why would we be disagreeing over Separatists and the Republic?"

"Who says that's not part of someone's plan? Keep us busy fighting while the real threat builds somewhere else." Festus stood, popping his empty pot onto the topmost track in Max's stack. "But I guess all the while we' keep talking, at least we're not fighting."

"True," Max replied as the pair walked towards to trash chute by the doorway. "It's a lot harder to have a reasoned chat with battle droids."

Max felt a friendly slap on the back.

"I think you and I can agree to disagree from here to eternity, Max. And I'm glad of it." Festus replied. "You might be a dyed-in-the-bulkhead Republican. But I think you're probably one of the good ones."

Max let a small puff of air chortle from his nose.

"And you, Festus, might be a mad revolutionary, but at least I feel confident you probably wouldn't execute me."

"Oh, never. Naturally," Festus replied. "It would be a lot harder to parade our toppled overlords through the streets if you can't walk. I'm not dragging you."

The pair laughed.

"Just promise me one thing, Fest," Max replied as they headed through the door. "That you won't climb into bed with the Neimoidians while we're still sharing a dorm room."

The tendrils below Festus' mouth contorted into a Ryllian smile.

"I make no guarantees."


End file.
